Last Exit

by Catie Rhodes

  Mysti walked back to where her witch pack was and came back with a handful of something. She tossed a couple of Mercury dimes on the brick. They turned black and began to smoke. Her shoulders rounded, and she made a face.

  “He’s put a witch bottle, probably full of his fingernails and urine, underneath this brick porch. It’s meant to ward off evil.” She kept her distance from the church door. “Before you ask, Oscar’s in-between status let him pass on through."

  “Fine, but I’m not evil,” I snapped. A lifetime of hearing that made me a little sensitive.

  Mysti gave her head an impatient shake. “No. Nor am I. But Father Weber empowered the bottle to keep people he considered evil out. We are those people.”

  “Do we dig it up?” The suggestion made my body hurt. We had neither the equipment nor the time.

  Mysti twisted to face me, one eyebrow raised. “Are you saying that sorry little man is stronger than us?”

  I scrambled to my feet. Memories of the way this man had treated Herta pulsed in my veins. “No.”

  I marched back up the brick steps. The wall of energy Father Weber had put in place rose up to meet me. I took one second to gather myself. The shining power of the mantle raced through me, both hot and cold at the same time. I threw up one hand and pushed at Father Weber’s wall of energy.

  Father Weber’s ghost materialized in front of me. “Stay out, devil.”

  Energy from his force field blasted into my chest. I tumbled down the brick steps and landed hard on my tailbone. A pitiful scream escaped me.

  Tubby hauled me to my feet. “I can probably pass. I’m evil, but I ain’t got no magic.”

  Sadly, he was right. Father Weber would have considered my murdering friend a non-devil. But I wouldn’t let Tubby take care of this. My anger at Father Weber had risen up like a fire-breathing monster. It demanded blood, or something like it. I pulled my arm from Tubby’s.

  “If he kills me, dig up his bones and piss on them.” I stomped back up the steps.

  “Want some help?” Mysti asked as I went by.

  I held up one hand as a no. At the threshold of the church, Father Weber waited, translucent arms crossed over his chest.

  “Let me in,” I growled. My voice didn’t even sound human.

  Father Weber made the sign of the cross.

  “God won’t stop me. I’m one of his children too.” I gathered my energy and made Father Weber’s ghost my central focus. Body shaking with the effort, I grabbed the ghost by the scruff of his neck and pulled as hard as I could.

  His feet left the bricks and wood of the old threshold. The ghost’s howl of fury made my back teeth ache until they seemed ready to explode. The bricks hiding Father Weber’s witch bottle cracked open. Noxious smoke danced up lazily. I adjusted my grip on Father Weber’s ghost.

  Without planning, the words came from me, almost as though someone else spoke them.

  “I call the element of air

  Send this weak little man’s spirit

  So far away, nothing else will ever come near it.

  Imprison him alone in wickedness

  Where he may enjoy his own perniciousness.”

  I threw Father Weber’s spirit into the great beyond. It flew like a huge dark bird, its shadow cold and malicious. As it faded from sight, so did his shout of rage.

  “Good riddance,” I muttered and marched into the church.

  The old building’s floorboards bowed and popped with each step. Finally one broke. I danced away as the board tumbled to the dark crawlspace below. I took more careful steps after that.

  The pulpit leaned to one side, rusty nails exposed where it had been yanked off its base.

  “Sloppy job, Oscar.” I took mincing steps around and knelt in front of it.

  Oscar’s soul radiated evil and hate. It felt the same as listening to a speech by a politician not worth voting for. I pushed the pulpit slightly, not wanting to reach underneath it blind.

  The chittering hiss of a rattlesnake’s warning answered me.

  Heart thudding heavily, I scrambled to my feet and took a few steps away from the pulpit. Oscar had enlisted a deadly sentry to guard his treasure.

  Had my magic supplies not been lost when Oscar and his merry band of assholes burned down the hotel, I might have had a way to draw the snake away from the soul keeper. But my stuff was gone, burned up. Even Priscilla Herrera’s spell book. That left me few choices.

  The rattlesnake would only get angrier if I tried to scare him away. I could kill him, but I didn’t have the heart. The snake was just doing what snakes did.

  My mind flashed on a figure swinging from a tree. Pappy. Why on earth was I thinking of that nasty thing now?

  Dimittis me. Pappy’s words came with a blast of foul-smelling air.

  An idea formed. I focused on Oscar’s vileness and whispered, “Dimittis me.”

  The snake’s rattling increased in speed, and his head popped against something.

  I said the word again. “Dimittis me.”

  Something scraped underneath the pulpit. Oscar’s soul box. It must be moving. The sound of the snake striking at the moving object came through the boards. After several seconds, the gold edge of something peeked out from under the pulpit.

  One more time. “Dimittis me.”

  A shining, tiny golden box scraped toward me. I bent my knees and held out my hand the way I would for a dog to lick. The box slid right into it.

  A bolt of fire flashed in my head. I staggered to the side, reaching for something to steady me. I slammed into a wall, hearing the crack of the dry rotted wood, but unable to control myself enough to put less pressure on it.

  Fire flashed again. The forgotten church faded away. Wood smoke stung my nose. A crackling fire with some animal roasting over it filled my field of vision.

  “She’s got my soul, you incompetent morons,” Oscar’s melodious voice thundered.

  I jerked away from his consciousness, even though I knew it was too late. Pushing myself off the old church wall, I staggered across the floor, black motes dancing in my vision. Arms grabbed me. The scent of Mysti’s rosemary sachet replaced the fire smell. She dragged me out of the church.

  “He’s coming,” I rasped at my friends. “We've got to run now.”

  Herta appeared off to the side. “If you want me to stall him, you must do one thing more.”

  I tried to walk toward her, but fatigue jellied my knees. Griff got me by one arm and Mysti the other. They dragged me along behind Herta.

  She stopped at the foot of a huge cedar tree, which hulked over a crumbling chimney. Her emotions seeped into me, telling me better than she ever could that this had been the site of her home.

  “Underneath the bricks of this chimney. That’s where I hid it when I knew I was dying.” She pointed.

  “Let me go,” I muttered.

  Griff and Mysti did as I asked. I found my feet easier than I’d expected. Whatever connecting with Oscar had done to me was already fading. My strength and stamina increased with each trial. I pointed.

  “Dig here.”

  Tubby, who now had the spade, hurried forward and did what I asked. It didn’t take him long to unearth a porcelain box. I took it from him and set it in front of Herta.

  “Open it,” she said.

  I did as asked. A tarnished locket lay inside. I took it out and tried to give it to her.

  “See what’s inside.” She wouldn’t take it.

  I opened the locket and stared into the faces of Oscar’s wife and children.

  He wanted me to help him avenge them, and I wouldn’t do it. Herta’s voice filled my head. He left angry and forgot this. I should have helped him. He’d never have become what he did.

  Maybe. Maybe not. It wasn’t worth arguing now. I held out the locket to Herta.

  This time she took it. Go now. I’ll stall him.

  I turned away from Herta, wishing I could have done more for her. Thunder shook the sky. Underneath was the faintest baying
of hounds. Oscar was on his way.

  “What are we doing with that?” Mysti pointed at the tiny gold box holding Oscar’s soul.

  I turned the thing over, examining it for the first time. With bird’s wings carved into the top, it resembled a woman’s jewelry box more than protection for something as delicate as a soul. But then, if Oscar’s soul was anywhere near as heinous as its owner, maybe it wasn’t so fragile.

  “I expected a piece of jewelry.” I ran my finger over the delicate design.

  In a long ago vision, where I’d watched Oscar separate his body from his soul, I had seen a glint of gold from the soul keeper, but this was the closest I’d ever been to it. It emanated Oscar’s essence. Evil. Selfish. Stubborn. Crafty. Now that essence tried to crawl into my skin. I fought against it.

  Thunder cracked again. A cool wind rustled through the lost settlement.

  “We need to go, girl.” Tubby stared at the fast-moving clouds.

  “What are you going to do?” Mysti pressed.

  “Something I probably shouldn’t.” My voice shook, and my hands trembled as I unlocked my phone’s home screen and scrolled through pictures of Tanner and me. Each one pierced my heart. Finally I found the one I wanted. It was a picture of a business card. Solid black with the name Black Silas and a ten-digit phone number. I showed it to Mysti.

  She shrugged and held up her hands. “You know they’re liars. Every last one of them. And you know they have plans on top of plans.”

  “Who are you calling?” Griff pressed closer, face creased in concern.

  “Black Silas.” I squeaked out the name like a little girl and hit dial. The rings burred in my ear. One. Two. Three.

  A click and a familiar voice. “Peri Jean Gregg. I was just speaking of you with an old friend.”

  Gooseflesh formed on my forearms, and a shiver worked its way through me. Black Silas bothered me on a level I couldn’t quite explain. It dug right underneath my skin and hovered in a dark cloud at the edge of my brain. It pricked at a secret, invisible place, one that knew danger by its old name and understood the consequences went much further than death.

  “Hello? You didn’t butt dial me, did you?” He let out a hearty laugh.

  “No, Mr. Silas.” The short sentence left me breathless.

  “Is this about the box emblazoned with the mythical phoenix? The one you’re holding in your beautiful hand right now?” Amusement filled his voice. It wasn’t hard to picture the handsome, if a bit old-fashioned, Black Silas smiling.

  “Yes,” I whispered, chill bumps racing over me.

  “And you want me to…let’s see…help you get rid of Oscar E. Rivera because you’re not big enough or strong enough to do it yourself.” The devil always knows exactly what one needs.

  My heart thudded faster. “Yes.”

  “Let’s be clear. You’re asking for my assistance in this matter?” He’d let me hang myself. It was the only way.

  “Yes.” The word sounded like the final nail pounding a coffin closed. “What does it cost?”

  “Cost?” He did laugh then. “We’ll discuss that when I see you.”

  I shook my head. There was no way I’d agree to owe Black Silas without knowing what. “Wait a second.”

  “I’m sorry, dear. Too late to renege. Arrangements have already been set in motion.” He sounded almost sympathetic, even though I doubted him capable of sympathy.

  “But…” I trailed off after the one word. I didn’t know what to offer.

  Black Silas cut off anything I might have said. “Bring Oscar Rivera’s soul to the crossroads near where your family is staying. Do it right after dark. We’ll settle up then.”

  “No, wait. Please.” My voice came out high and breathy. A sharp wind cut through the cemetery, cooling the sweat on my face.

  He hung up.

  Heart throbbing, I turned to my friends. “I just screwed up so bad.”

  Griff leaned in. “What did you give him? There are ways to break deals with these things.”

  “I don’t know. He just said it was too late for me to change my mind.” My cheeks tingled, and a cool lightness tingled in my head.

  Griff’s and Mysti’s eyes locked. He tipped his head at me. She shook hers. He frowned at her.

  “There’s something you need to know.” He threw Mysti a guilty glance.

  “Griff, no. Cecil said not to…” Mysti looked at me and shrugged. “Go on. There’s no need trying to hide it now.”

  Hannah sidled closer to me, breathing so hard her nostrils flared. Her warm eyes had a wild edge.

  “Cecil had a spell with his heart after you got injured. He’s not in great shape.” Griff could barely look at me. That alone told me how bad off my uncle was.

  My stomach went weak and woozy even though the news was no shock. Cecil’s heart had been bothering him since I met him. He’d had surgeries. He took a lot of medicine.

  Seeing me take what should have been a killing blow had been too much for him. Every time something like that put a strain on his heart, it could kill him. The fear I usually felt at the prospect of losing Cecil jumped up, ready to play. I sidestepped it. We could dance later.

  Something more important had my attention. Why hadn’t anybody told me?

  Mysti read my face. “Cecil insisted you not be told. He threatened me with death, Hannah with exile. He offered to have Griff framed for murder.”

  I almost wanted to laugh at Cecil’s threats. Each one was deadly serious. But his ability to come up with them so quickly and be so resolute about them still impressed me. He knew more about exerting influence over others than I ever would. I both understood the fear of Cecil’s threats and wished somebody had told me Cecil was sick. I kept my mouth shut. Nothing would be solved by recriminations at this point.

  “Why isn’t he in the hospital?” I spoke to Hannah.

  “The man who owns the place where they’re staying is some kind of retired doctor.” She rolled her eyes. “Cecil said he’d have to be good enough.”

  “We need to get there now,” I said to nobody in particular.

  “I’ll message Tubman directions.” Griff tapped on his phone. A few seconds later, Tubby’s phone dinged.

  Tubby glanced at the directions and ambled toward his car. Hannah joined him, leaning close to speak. He nodded and winked at her. I turned away, not wanting to watch them flirt anymore.

  “Is it okay if I ride with you and Griff?” I asked Mysti.

  Thunder rumbled hard enough to shake the ground at our feet. This time, the shouts of men followed. Instead of answering my question, Mysti took off running. I followed close on her heels. Griff ran with us, thumb jabbing at the remote unlocking device clutched in his hand.

  The SUV’s lights flashed. The doors unlocked with a clunk. We all scrambled into the vehicle. I barely got my door shut before the SUV’s engine roared to life.

  “Seatbelts buckled,” Griff yelled and sped away from the crumbling old settlement. From the window, I got one last glimpse of Herta’s ghost. She held the locket with the pictures of Oscar’s family in one hand as she waited to confront the boy she’d loved and raised. I should have felt pity for her plight, but I was too busy hoping she kept her promise to buy me some time. When the decaying remnants of the lost town faded, I turned to find Mysti watching me.

  “Black Silas said you couldn’t change your mind about involving him because things had already been set in motion. Am I getting it right?” She chewed the corner of her lip.

  My face heated, but I nodded. I knew I’d done the wrong thing.

  She let out a breath. “Something has been going on with your family since we got to Ghost Town.”

  “Ghost Town?” I raised both my voice and my eyebrows.

  “Yep. Ghost Town.” Griff’s eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. “This retired doctor friend of Cecil’s owns it. It’s a tourist attraction. Some old buildings. A cavern.”

  I processed the information. This sounded exactly like the kind o
f place Cecil avoided. He must have needed a doctor mighty damn bad to go there. My skin tingled with the knowledge. “Tell me what you saw.”

  Mysti shrugged. “Your Uncle asked everybody who wasn’t a Gregg by birth or marriage to please get the hell out.”

  This didn’t surprise me. Hannah had already said as much.

  “I got to hear a little more than you did,” Griff said. “Cecil said something about contacting the Wanderer in the cavern. Then Finn saw me lurking in the bathroom and kicked me out.”

  Pieces of information fell into place. Cecil was back on his crusade to get me an audience with the Wanderer. The Wanderer who had already said he’d only meet with me when I got to the Death card. The Wanderer wouldn’t change his mind. He’d simply give us a way for me to fulfill the prophecy of the Death card. The idea of facing whatever that was made me want to puke.

  I needed to put a stop to whatever Cecil had in mind. If Black Silas came through, no matter what he demanded in return, Oscar would be dead forever. I could put off dealing with the Wanderer for now.

  “I need to stop Cecil from doing whatever he’s planning.” I said aloud.

  Griff nodded and pressed his foot harder on the accelerator. We said little else as we sped through the deepening dusk. I leaned my head back on the seat and stared off into the cliffs and valleys of my life. The last few days flashed behind my eyes in a series of depressing images I had no idea how to process. Black Silas’s cold voice played on repeat. Too late to renege. Arrangements have already been set in motion.

  Cecil might have already made a deal with the Wanderer. One that involved me in something I couldn’t begin to imagine. What awful thing could he have agreed to? I fidgeted.

  After what seemed like an eternity, we drove underneath a sign that spelled out “Boone’s Ghost Town” in ghostly neon green and rattled down a rutted dirt road. I heard the music before I saw the lighted sign reading “Ghost Town Dance Hall.”

  The dance hall, shaped like barn, had a wide sliding door across the front. Light poured out of it. Dozens of people milled around. I frowned. Worse than I thought. This place was full of townies.

  Cecil usually didn’t put himself in situations where outsiders might see or hear things that were none of their business. Were we really that desperate? My inner realist provided an immediate answer. Yes. This shit is dire.